


ready if it happens with you

by sarcasticfishes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, ASMR, ATTENTION, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Intimacy, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 19:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticfishes/pseuds/sarcasticfishes
Summary: It’s not a thing. Ryan’s just a little… touch-starved. Intimacy-starved.Shane passes behind him when he’s sitting at his desk, idly touches Ryan’s shoulder, thumb brushing the curve of his neck — and goosebumps erupt down the length of Ryan’s arms.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 97
Kudos: 1384
Collections: The Ghosts Are Watching





	ready if it happens with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sequence_fairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/gifts), [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).

> So, I'm a huge advocate for ASMR and things that cause it, and I started writing this a little bit after the Tombstone Q&A. Because of the fact that a large portion of this was written so long ago, the timeline is a little wacky. We know the boys aren't filming anything in the upcoming months, but then again this is fiction so I'm just rolling with it! I had a spark of inspo (and softness) and wanted to finish it, and what better day to post than the birthdays of two of my favorite people!! 
> 
> Jess and Nini, you're both such wonderful friends to me. I hope you're both having a lovely day, and I hope you enjoy this!

Ryan’s alarm goes off at 7, then 7:15, and then again at 7:30 before he’s finally awake enough to even roll over — but that’s how it is every morning, there’s nothing unusual about it. What’s different is that when he picks up his phone, he has a new voice memo message from the night before.

** _>Shane: 04:17am · 06/01/19_ ** _   
_(▶ 🔘──────── 0:01:14)

A message from Shane is far from unusual. It’s the timestamp that makes Ryan sit up a little, shoving both his pillows behind his head. He hits the play button and turns up the volume a little, and Shane’s voice filters out from the speakers on Ryan’s phone.

_ “Hey, it’s— wow it is fucken late, buddy. I sure hope you are _not _awake right now, but I know what you’re like, so you might be. I hope you’re not.” _

Shane’s voice is soft and a little bit throaty, and the mic picks up all his plosives as though he’s speaking very quietly very close to his phone.

_ “I had an idea. I knew I’d forget it if I didn’t tell you now.” _

Ryan likes when Shane explains things — and this definitely isn’t the worst thing to wake up to. Shane has always had a rather nice quality to his voice, always softer than Ryan expects when it’s just the two of them talking. Sometimes his arms prickle when Shane scoots his desk chair over towards Ryan, talking just that little bit quieter, a little bit of attention for Ryan and Ryan only. He — he’s not quite sure if it’s an ASMR thing, like what they joke about. He just likes to hear Shane ramble a little bit, talk about something he’s knowledgeable or passionate about. 

Ryan knows now, listening to Shane’s message, that if he let his eyes close for even a second he’d drift right off again. He needs to be at work soon, so that’s not going to do.

He listens to it three more times before he leaves the house, earbuds in, and still has no idea what Shane’s even saying. He just likes the sound of his voice.

.

It’s not a thing.

Ryan’s just a little… touch-starved. Intimacy-starved.

Shane passes behind him when he’s sitting at his desk, idly touches Ryan’s shoulder, thumb brushing the curve of his neck — and goosebumps erupt down the length of Ryan’s arms.

Ryan barely holds in his shudder until Shane is out of sight, and then nearly folds right over his keyboard.

It’s just — he’s been single for a little while now, living with Roland and Tucker doesn’t exactly lend to quick or easy hookups. There haven’t been a lot of hands on Ryan as of late — at least, not a lot of hands that aren’t his own.

He’s running on the fumes of casual touches and bro hugs, and the pad of Shane’s thumb suddenly on the side of his neck is the last sensation he had ever expected here in their workplace.

It makes his skin buzz, and he doesn’t really know how to address that, mentally.

.

Ryan’s just stepped into the apartment, nudging off his shoes and tugging off his beanie when Shane asks, “What is going on with your hair, man,” while laughing at him, affection in his gaze even though he’s clearly razzing Ryan.

Ryan wrings his beanie in his hand, and it’s very hard to school his expression. He’s been growing his hair out a little bit on top, it’s just gotten past that awkward phase of being too long and not long enough, just starting to settle around his ears and curl just right. He rather likes it, likes looking differently than he has for the last twenty-eight and a half years.

Ryan frowns, and Shane steps forward like he’s leaping into action.

“No no no, it’s not bad. Just. Your hair,” Shane chuckles and then lifts his hand to comb it through Ryan’s mop. “Your hat fucked it up.”

He might say something after that, but Ryan just closes his eyes for a moment, and feels. It almost happens in slow motion, Shane’s fingertips against his scalp, the faint prickles of maybe three, four single hairs being pulled accidentally, Shane fixing his cowlick. Ryan shudders, hard, and Shane pauses, gently extracts his hand.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepishly. “That was weird of me.”

“It was nice,” Ryan quickly replies, shrugging his shoulders close to his body. Shane already kind of knows about this, about how sensitive Ryan is to certain things. He might as well be honest about this. “I just… being single is weird. I don’t get a lot of physical contact right now. You surprised me.”

“A little feels like a lot,” Shane says, and hums in understanding. Ryan smiles as Shane very gently cups his palm around Ryan’s elbow, over the material of his hoodie. “Okay. We’ll work you up to hair-pulling.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ryan laughs, because Shane’s teasing now. He _has _to be teasing. Shane tugs him by the elbow towards the kitchen.

“C’mon. I made lunch.”

.

** _>Shane: 16:05 · 07/23/19_ **   
_ Man listen to this rain it hasn’t let up all day _   
(▶ 🔘──────── 0:01:02)

**_>Ryan: 16:08 · 07/23/19_**   
_ You know I live in LA too right _ _  
_It’s also raining at my place

**_>Shane: 16:08 · 07/23/19_** _  
_ _ Shush, listen. _

_ . _

It’s a stormy late Summer, but Ryan’s always loved a good thunderstorm — it feels like the perfect movie marathon weather. He comes back to the couch with a fresh bowl of popcorn and, without really thinking about it, tucks himself in next to Shane.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says, and as Shane lifts the remote to start the movie, the power goes out.

For a few moments, they sit there in stunned silence, until Shane begins to chuckle.

“Alright,” he says. “Didn’t really wanna watch a movie anyway.”

Ryan begins to laugh too, when he feels Shane shake against him.

“Christ, ok. I’ll get some candles I guess.”

It’s not all that dark yet, just a gloomy early evening, the candles aren’t really _needed_, but Ryan fishes them out of the junk drawer anyway just in case the power doesn’t come back before night. He tries to check Twitter on his phone but the wifi is out with the power, and his phone service seems to be kind of jacked up with the weather.

“What do people even do during a blackout?”

Shane looks thoughtful, sitting cross-legged on the couch. Ryan thinks, he has far too much leg for that to be comfortable.

“Card games?”

“I don’t think I have any cards, dude.”

“Who doesn’t have cards?”

Ryan lets out an aggrieved sigh, “I dunno man, I think Roland has some. Somewhere. I can go look.” He’s almost starting to feel — a little stressed? Over nothing? But this isn’t how he expected his Friday night to go.

“Nah, c’mere, it’s fine,” Shane says, immediately, like he knows, “Sit on the floor with me. People sit on the floor during blackouts, and we’ve got popcorn and I already opened this beer.”

Sitting on the floor with Shane is nicer than Ryan expects it to be. They finish their huge bowl of popcorn (like that was even going to be a problem), drink a beer, and then a second one when Ryan crawls to the fridge and back. They play Slaps, which Shane wins because of his stupid long arms. They lie down together on the rug and play 20 Questions for well over an hour, and when the sight lull in conversation hits, that’s when Shane begins to hum. Something gentle, haunting, incredibly familiar—

“Is that the fucking Halo theme?” Ryan hisses, incredulous, and Shane splutters mid-note.

“Yes, and?”

“And... do another,” Ryan says, grinning, his eyes closed. It’s getting dark enough that they should light some candles. Ryan hears Shane take a deep breath next to him, and he gets six notes into the first line of Mamma Mia before Ryan slaps him in the stomach, laughing aloud. Shane curls up on his side, laughing too, hushing Ryan’s cackles. They’re alone in the house, but the dark makes everything sound just that much louder and closer.

“Okay I got one,” Shane says, softly, and then begins to hum again. This time it’s another slow, soft melody, and Ryan breathes in time with Shane’s song, feeling the deep rumble of it come through him. There’s always been something about the quality of Shane’s voice that Ryan has admired.

“Did you guess it?” Shane asks.

“Hmm?”

“Were you even listening?” Another chuckle creeping in on the edge of Shane’s voice.

“Yeah, of course. Do it again.”

Ryan feels the press of two fingers against the inside of his wrist where it lays by his side, Shane pressing against his pulse as he starts, once again, to hum a song for Ryan.

.

** _>Shane: 00:03 · 07/31/19_ **   
_ Recorded this the other night. _   
(▶ 🔘──────── 0:19:56)

**_>Ryan: 00:04 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ Dude it’s twenty minutes long _

**_>Shane: 00:04 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ That’s the supercut _

**_>Shane: 00:05 · 07/31/19_**   
_ You don’t have to listen to it _ _  
_Just thought you might like it

**_>Ryan: 00:06 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ Shut up I’m gonna _

**_>Ryan: 00:27 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ Fuck _

**_>Ryan: 00:49 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ Shane when did you do this _

**_>Shane: 00:50 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ Uhhh when you army crawled into the kitchen for more beer _

**_>Ryan: 00:50 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ ??? _

**_>Shane: 00:51 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ I wanted to get some rain and thunder sounds so I left my phone recording in your window. Mostly got like 2 hours of us being idiots, but then this, which I thought was kinda nice!! Just thought it you might like to hear it too. _

**_>Ryan: 00:52 · 07/31/19_**   
_ Yeah _ _  
_Thanks, big guy

**_>Shane: 00:52 · 07/31/19_** _  
_ _ My pleasure. _

_ . _

Ryan will probably never admit it to a single soul, but a looped sound recording of the rain, thunder, and Shane’s gentle humming does more for his insomnia than he could have ever expected.

.

It’s almost impossible to pinpoint the shift in their relationship, and first Ryan thinks it might be Shane’s fingers on his wrist on the living room floor, but then he thinks it might be Shane’s hand in his hair in the entryway of his apartment. And then, when he _ really _allows himself to think about it, he can trace the feeling all the way back, months, years, Shane sleeping quietly next to him on a dusty floor or a creaky bed, the white noise of his breath and almost-snores soothing Ryan in a way he finds hard to describe.

Shane is built of comfort, and Ryan wants to work his way in between the sheets, wrap himself in it.

Early Fall finds them in a dark movie theatre, and Shane leans across the armrest to whisper something into Ryan’s ear that he doesn’t quite catch, too focused on Shane’s fingers catching his own and pressing foil-wrapped chocolates into the palm of his hand. He shivers when he feels what must be Shane’s lips brush against the shell of his ear. He leans in closer, chasing the sound and sensation when he should really be focussing on the movie on screen.

“Yeah,” he answers, and doesn’t know what he’s agreed to. It doesn’t concern him as much as it should. Shane taps his foot against Ryan’s and pulls back, falling back into the movie easy. Ryan unwraps a Hershey Kiss with slow hands and pops it into his mouth. He’s not as much of a sweet-tooth as Shane, but there’s something about knowing that Shane is tasting the same sweetness as him, that his mouth would taste the same too, that has Ryan more on edge than any horror movie could leave him.

Ryan feels stiff as a board from the shoulders down when they leave the theatre, giving Shane pause as they wait for a Lyft.

“Are you cold?” he asks, and Ryan looks up; he’s standing so close.

“Don’t think so,” he replies, because it’s not cold, and yet Shane is standing there in four layers and a scarf. Ryan understands comfort, but he doesn’t know if he’ll ever understand _Shane_.

“Here,” Shane says, and unwinds his scarf, and then loops it loosely around Ryan’s neck, tucking it into his hoodie. “I’ll get you something warm back at the apartment.”

Their car arrives, and Ryan doesn’t point out that he already feels like he’s on fire.

.

** _>Shane: 00:03 · 11/26/19_ **   
Happy birthday pal!   
(▶ 🔘──────── 0:00:32)

.

Ryan doesn’t think twice about curling up next to Shane anymore. In the privacy of their own homes, it’s easy; watching TV in Ryan’s bedroom in his shared home, playing video games on Shane’s couch, or in the back seat of the Chevy when they drive halfway across the state to film investigations for the show. Shane’s free with his affection and gives easy touches to all who will accept.

“Can we leave some room for Jesus?” TJ asks, in good humor, and Ryan feels the warmth at his back disappear as Shane takes a step back. “We have a wide shot, let’s fill it up, yeah?”

Ryan notes that in the past he would have stumbled over an excuse for their closeness, mumbling something about the chilly Northern Californian air, tucking his hands further into his pockets and stomping his boots. Now, he simply looks back at Shane and smiles, feels something blooming pleasantly in his core when Shane smiles back.

It’s late when they’re being driven back to the hotel, and Shane catches one of Ryan’s hand in both of his, digging his thumbs into the palm of Ryan’s hand and into his wrist until Ryan’s entire body is loose and slack and tingling.

In their hotel room, Shane asks, “You’re okay with the touching, right?” and it’s as much of an admission that either of them are likely to make. For all their banter and horseplay, Shane is still a Midwesterner at heart, and Ryan will keep second-guessing himself until the day he dies.

“I’d say something if I wasn’t,” Ryan replies, and looks over at Shane’s bed, finding him turned over on his belly, head on the pillow facing Ryan. He’s six feet away and Ryan wishes he was close enough to reach out and touch. Shane’s looking at his phone, glasses resting delicately on the bridge of his nose.

“Do you want more than that?” he asks, and Ryan feels something hot snaking through his veins, pooling low in his belly. What’s more than touching?

“Yeah,” he breathes, and worries Shane hasn’t heard him when he doesn’t respond. He’s not sure he can make himself speak any louder. He’s not sure he can say it again.

Shane reaches out and turns out the bedside lamp, and the room is suddenly pitch black.

“Me too,” Shane replies.

.

Going back to LA feels different. Shane asks “Do you want to go home or do you want to come to mine?” but — god, it feels so cheesy — Ryan doesn’t know the difference.

“With you,” he says, pointedly. “Home.”

“Jesus Christ,” Shane mumbles, looking anywhere but Ryan’s face, but he’s smiling and closing his hand around Ryan’s, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb. They’re standing a little bit away from the rest of the group. TJ’s returning the rental and Katie’s sorting out rides for them all to get home. Ryan’s been getting used to not being in charge of the whole shebang, it allows him to relax and unwind after each filming trip. He leans into Shane, holding their hands just out of sight from the others — not that it matters, but it feels private to be touched like this. So tenderly, after so long.

“Would you kiss me?” he asks, and feels Shane go stiff for a moment, surprised.

“Anything you want, Ry,” Shane replies.

“But do _ you _ want?” Ryan asks, so close he has to tilt his head right back to see Shane’s face.

Shane’s wearing his stupid yellow shades, his ghoul-specs, and Ryan wonders if he’d still wear them if he knew that Ryan doesn’t hate them as much as he thinks. He sees Shane smiling behind the tinted lenses, eyes tired but warm, and Ryan feels that warmth in his entire body.

“I do,” he replies, and Ryan almost kisses him right there.

“Alright lovebirds, pack it up,” Devon says fondly, and corrals them towards the Prius that’s pulled up for them. “Get home safe.”

“Don’t forget the footage, Ryan,” Katie reminds him, “You said you’d scrub through.”

“I won’t forget,” Ryan lies, and follows Shane into the back seat.

.

Kissing is great, but Shane’s hands are something else. He’s confident and gentle, his fingers cupped around Ryan’s neck, thumbs caressing his cheeks and jaw and pushing against the grain of stubble. Ryan gets lost in the sensation, forgets how to kiss back until Shane nips at his lip impishly.

“Pay attention.”

“You make it hard.”

“Sure hope I do,” Shane retorts, and Ryan so desperately wants to roll his eyes, but there’s gravel in Shane’s voice that sends a ripple of sensation down his spine, starting right from the tips of Shane’s fingers resting at the nape of his neck.

He wants Shane’s hands in his hair. He wants Shane talking to him, soft and encouraging. He wants to suck him off, and says as much, listening to the click of Shane’s throat as he swallows, and exhales a shaky breath. Shane’s looking at Ryan’s mouth, because where else could he possibly look right now, when Ryan’s just said _that _of all things?

“Here?” Shane asks, pulling back enough to give Ryan some breathing space. They’re standing in Shane’s living room, just inside the front door. On one hand, the couch is so close. On the other, the bed down the hall would be so much more comfortable, and Ryan wants to do so much tonight.

“In your bed?”

Shane practically drags him towards the bedroom, but Ryan doesn’t mind in the slightest.

There’s something different — it’s been a long time since Ryan’s been with another man, but he likes the give-and-take of it, the way Shane can move him around, the way he can move Shane too.

“Why do you always have to wear belts,” Ryan finds himself grumbling, in the midst of undoing said belt. 

“Narrow hips,” Shane chuckles, lounging back on the bed, “We don’t all have your curves, Bergara.”

Ryan shoots his best glare, but it only serves to make Shane grin wider at him, lifting his hips as Ryan tugs his jeans down and throws them aside. He takes a moment to be appreciative of Shane, his body, the way he looks slowly unbuttoning his shirt, naked from the waist down. He’s— extremely well proportioned. Ryan kneels at the end of the bed and Shane stalls in his unbuttoning, eyes going wide for a moment. His cock visibly twitches where it lays heavy against his thigh.

“Fuck, Ryan,” he says, and Ryan scooches forward, getting his shoulders between Shane’s spread knees.

“Give me a minute to get used to it, then you can fuck my mouth if you want.”

Shane nods silently, shirt hanging open around his shoulders, and Ryan holds his gaze as he gets his hand around Shane’s cock and guides it to his mouth.

Ryan takes his time, getting it wet, getting his lips around the head listening to Shane’s soft, trembling breaths. Ryan remembers the last time he did this, remembers being good at it, being able to take a lot — but it’s been a long time and Shane is _big_.

“You’re good at that,” he says, and Ryan feels a small spark of pride, sucks a little harder, takes Shane deeper until he groans, “_ So, _so good at that.”

Shane brings his hand down then, sliding his fingers into Ryan’s hair, fingertips raking across his scalp, and Ryan can’t stop the moan that rumbles out of him while he’s still sucking Shane’s dick. He feels himself going lax at the touch, jaw slacker, grip looser. Shane whines and chases the heat of Ryan’s mouth by thrusting up, and Ryan lets it happen. It feels too good not to. His scalp prickles where Shane fists his fingers into Ryan’s hair, holds him still as he fucks into him; Ryan doesn’t even choke. His eyes water, but he takes it because he can, because he wants to.

It doesn’t take long for Shane to work himself into a shivering mess, so close to coming that Ryan can taste it, can feel it on his tongue with the way he swells and throbs. He slows, giving Ryan a chance to catch his breath, to look up at Shane through watery eyes.

“I’m close,” Shane tells him, “I— what do you want?”

Ryan leans into Shane’s palm cupping his head, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s so hard in his jeans that he’s starting to ache, a tight-sharp feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck me?” he asks, because he can think of nothing better, nothing he wants more than that.

Shane closes his eyes tight, and for a moment, Ryan thinks he’s going to come like that, all over Ryan’s face.

“If you— yeah of course. I told you. Anything you want.”

Ryan smiles, getting to his feet.

.

It’s been a while since Ryan’s had something that wasn’t his own fingers, his own toys, inside him. It’s easier to get him ready on his hands and knees, and in minutes Shane already has him pushing back on his fingers, trying to get more, get deeper.

“Please,” he says, and Shane’s free hand is touching as much of him as possible, smoothing over his shoulder blades, down his ribs and hips, sliding into his hair — he doesn’t pull this time, comforting instead of directing. Ryan arches into the touch like a cat.

Shane slides into him easier than he has any right to, and Ryan bites into a pillow to quash his moan, a noise of surprise. Shane lays over him like a blanket, keeping him down on the mattress, letting Ryan squirm beneath him.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, right into Ryan’s ear, and Ryan nods frantically, spreads his thighs a little wider both so that Shane can slide even deeper and he can rub against the sheets beneath him, taking some of the edge off. He’s leaking, can feel the wet patch beneath him on Shane’s sheets.

“God yeah, Shane, please,” Ryan pants, and Shane moans into the crook of his shoulder, teeth biting into the tender skin there. A particularly strong thrust has Ryan reaching out to grasp the headboard, bracing himself, pushing back to meet Shane. He can tell Shane is still right there, still so close to coming even after taking a break to finger Ryan open, and the thought of it has Ryan’s toes curling against the sheets. He’s shamefully close too.

“I wanna see you,” he breathes, and Shane pulls out, deftly turning him over and sliding right back inside. Like this, looking down at Ryan, he sees Ryan’s hard cock already leaking over his own belly, and makes a soft, wounded noise at the sight.

“You wanted this bad, huh?”

Ryan nods, biting down on his lip. He can feel Shane everywhere now, even where they’re not touching. Every thrust lights him up inside. 

“Are you gonna come for me?”

Ryan _whines_, body bowing under Shane. This is what he’s been needing all along, Shane taking care of him like this, filling him up so good.

“Please,” is all he says, and Shane gets a hand around Ryan’s cock to finish him off between them. Ryan’s babbling, he’s nearly sure of it, there’s no way he could stay quiet now when he feels like he’s about to explode. Shane shushes him with soft kisses, and Ryan spills over his knuckles, coming fast and hard and _heavy_. He barely registers Shane sinking deep one last time as he comes too, but he feels the warmth of it inside him and wraps his legs around Shane’s waist to keep him there.

Shane says, “Fuck, _fuck_, Ryan,” right against his mouth, sinking into Ryan’s embrace, his body a solid, comforting weight. “Don’t let me crush you,” Shane breathes, and yet makes no effort to move. 

“I won’t,” Ryan promises.

.

Ryan wakes to the feeling of Shane’s hand as it slides down his spine, and he turns his face into the pillow with a sigh. The mattress dips, and Ryan feels Shane slipping out from beneath the fresh covers they’d hastily thrown on the bed last night.

When Ryan finally feels awake enough, he fumbles for his phone and squints at the time, before noticing his latest message.

** _>Shane: 07:02 · 12/15/19_ ** _   
_ _ Listen _   
(▶ 🔘──────── 0:00:15)

_ “I’m going to wake you up— any minute now,” _ Shane rasps from the speaker of Ryan’s phone, on his chest. _ “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do. I hope it’s something good. Come find me in the kitchen.” _

Ryan follows the sound of the coffee machine and finds Shane slumped over the countertop, but he visibly brightens as Ryan walks towards him, and opens his arms for Ryan to tuck himself right in there. Shane’s hands on his skin feel like they’re supposed to be there, like a part of himself he’s only just finding.

“You didn’t have to leave a message,” he says, smiling into Shane’s neck. “I’m right here, you know.”

There’s joy in Shane’s voice, but it’s so familiar, something Ryan hears when he speaks to Shane every day. Shane kisses his temple and says, “Old habits die hard.”


End file.
